


A Dog's Life

by Soulbarebones



Series: Asterisk [36]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 04:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11119989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulbarebones/pseuds/Soulbarebones
Summary: A typical day for Elliot.





	A Dog's Life

It was two in the afternoon and Elliot, flushed and drenched in sweat, stood in the Assistant Director's office, holding his shirt up as he stood in front of the air conditioner. It was a hundred and fuck degrees out, as the Art department manager so astutely put it, and he'd spent the last four of his eight hours unloading the new set that had arrived on the back of a tractor trailer. 

His prior experience with Hathor Rising meant that they trusted him around the equipment slightly more than the other PA’s, but it still wasn't enough to appease Ed, the set manager. Ed was short, stocky, had a wary tracking gaze that reminded him of Jude’s father, Gabe. Like Gabe, Ed thought Elliot was in desperate need of a life lesson, and he thought he ought to be the one to deliver it. And deliver he did, in the form of rigorous manual labor.

When Mason, the 2nd2nd, arrived in the office, clipboard in hand, Elliot dropped his shirt and tried to smooth it down but it stuck to his skin. “Ed says next time you need to send someone useful to help them out...”

“Well,” Mason drawled, looking over his clipboard. “If Ed could keep his own department properly staffed, then I wouldn't have to send people from mine to do his job...” He turned the page, tapped his pen, then sighed.

“Alright, Elliot. This is what I need you to do...”

Elliot whipped out his own notebook and pen, and jotted down his next series of tasks, including delivering a binder full of paperwork to the front office, a trip to the nearest pharmacy for a list of assorted items, and helping one of the newer PA’s do lockup.

At 5:30, he reminded the first AD that he had class at 6 and took off at a mad dash to meet Uber driver who was supposed to pick him up at the front door.

Ten minutes late and still breathing heavy from another hasty clip across campus, Elliot slid into his seat in the back of class. There were the eyerolls from the few that didn't understand but most didn't pay him any mind. Even the teacher had given up on him being on time. But that was different. They had an understanding, and when class was over at 8:45, Elliot stayed behind to help her out the box of presentation aids back to her office.

The subway home was filled with people dressed in clubbing gear, chattering eagerly about their day. Elliot slumped in his seat and tried to get some of his homework done before his stop.

It was going on 11 by the time he made it home and showered, and though he didn't always at the an of the day, he could smell himself and it was a must.

Naked, Elliot shoved tomorrow’s khakis and polo onto his chair, helped himself to a bottle of room temperature water, opened and consumed a Lara bar in two bites, then fell into bed.

......

Elliot woke with a start the way he did most mornings and rolled over to look at his phone. 3:55 am. The alarm was set to go off in five minutes. With a huff, he fell back on the pillow and laid there until his phone vibrated on the nightstand. Then, he got up, picked up the clothes and the bookbag he'd readied the night before, and slipped from his "room". Justin, the roommate who occupied the master bedroom, was sleeping still and Elliot snuck past him and went into the bathroom. By 4:33, he'd taken care of everything that needed taking care of, dropped his dirty pajamas into his hamper, and made it to the kitchen where he started the electric kettle and made a mug of tea to go.

By five, he was smoking a cigarette at the bus station, and by five thirty, he had already punched in, stowed his things, and was letting himself into the AD's office.

"Morning, Boss..."

"Ah, Elliot..." The assistant director handed him a walkie-talkie and wrote his name down on a clipboard next to a number that corresponded to the one written in permanent marker on the back of the device. "Go make sure nobody needs help opening the trailers. And grab me a coffee and a bagel on your way back."

"Help with the trailers, coffee and bagel..." Elliot repeated back, already turning to go.

"Oh, and take these boxes out back.." The AD motioned to a stack of empty cardboard parcels nested inside one another beside the door.

"To the dumpster?" Elliot confirmed.

"Yep."

"Alright."

So the first task was schlepping a bunch of not-so-heavy but unwieldy boxes out of the set area to the dumpsters, including propping the door open so he didn't get locked out and have to walk a mile around the building to the front entrance. Then back to set to make sure the teamsters had the trailers open and ready to go. 

Elliot swung by craft service, which was just opening up for the day, and waited while they brewed a fresh pot of coffee and unbagged various pastries and breakfast type foods. 

"So, you do intermittent fasting or something?" Reneé, the girl setting up, asked him.

"Sorry? What's that?" Elliot turned the ear piece away from his right ear and leaned forward.

"Oh. Where you only eat during, like, a four hour window at night. Just because, you never eat anything in the morning. Most of the other PA's, they can't wait to get in here and stuff their faces..."

"Oh." He shrugged as he stirred two sugars into the AD's coffee. "Eating too early makes me sick." He put the lid on it and raised the cup in salutation. "Gotta run. See you later."

Less than a minute later, his earpiece crackled. "Chris to Elliot." 

He juggled the bagel on top of the coffee and slowed but didn't stop as he switched the mouthpiece on to address the AD's first assistant. "Elliot. Go ahead."

"Been to crafty yet?"

"On route to the office. Close enough to double back. Can I get you something?"

"Yeah, the usual. Thanks."

"10-4. See you in a few."

The early morning was spent trekking back and forth to craft services for coffee and snacks for various directors, actors, and assistants, and passing out the filming schedule to just about everyone on site. 

By eleven o'clock, Elliot’s phone was buzzing in his pocket, letting him know he'd reached his “goal” of ten thousand steps. It wasn't unusual for him to rack up twenty-five or thirty thousand steps each day, although one busy, 16-hour shift, he'd managed a whopping forty-two thousand some-odd steps.

In the early afternoon, Elliot finally sat down with a sandwich and a bag of chips. He tore off the cellophane and took a big bite just as his headphone chirped. “Mason to Elliot.”

He sighed, swallowed what he could and shoved the rest of it into the side of his cheek with his tongue. “Elliot. Go ahead...”

 

“Elliot, we're looking for that red stapler for the next scene; it's a no-go on the prop table. You have eyes?”

Groaning and hanging his head, Elliot took a deep breath, then nodded to himself.”Red stapler on hiatus. I'll find it.” Standing, he took another bite, hastily rewrapped his sandwich, and stuffed it into his pocket as best he could.

And to think. Sebastian Noriega was pulling down 75k delivering packages. Life was a cruel mistress.


End file.
